Behind Her Closed Door
by PhenioxGypsy
Summary: Everyone knows Minerva belongs to Hermione but what they don't is how it happened. So here it is, complex and contradicting, this is what happened behind Minerva's closed door... WARNING: INVOLVES SMUT, FEMSLASH, MENTIONS/ FLASHBACKS OF SELF HARM, TEACHER/STUDENT RELATIONSHIP/FLIRTING, COARSE LANGUAGE, AND ANYTHING ELSE I CAN THINK OF AND WILL GIVE FAIR WARNING OF IN THE STORY
1. Prologue

**A.N./: I'm sorry I know I'm an arsehole please forgive me but I have this for you and I'm planning on going back to ** 'Unexpected' **if that's any condolence. **

She was so many things.

She was a woman, she was a teacher, she was the center of so many fake scandals amongst students, she was a Gryffindor, she was a pillar of strength, and she was so many other things that I can barely put a name to.

But most importantly, she was mine; I had completely and utterly possessed her in the most carnal way, in the most intimate way and nobody knew besides me and her.

With me she is so innocent and scared and so delicate, like glass; I sometimes forget that she is the adult and I am the child.

But I'm getting ahead of myself, let me start from the beginning, after all that is the only way you can truly know a story, if you've been following from the beginning…


	2. The Title

**A.N./: This is written from Hermione Jean Granger's point of view as it's happening. And I'm stating now that the royalty portion in here is merely a title that I found and was like "let's do that" so the lineage is way wrong so don't get angry that it's not right. Oh by the way Hermione is eleven years old about a month from being twelve.**

_August,_

My parents and I made a surprise visit to France this summer, well a surprise to us anyway. But I was alright with it; France is beautiful in the summer. The reason for the trip however was not as joyous as the surroundings called for. Me and my father had to wear Victorian style solid black clothes for the dreary occasion-which was pure hateful in the heat, while my mother wore nice clothes of respective grey. It was my father's father's funeral; a man I had only met once at a family gathering when I was seven. I remember him as being distant to everyone; except for me. With me he was like any other grandfather, sweet, loving, happy, and enjoyed having me on his knee.

My father doesn't talk about his side of the family much but he did say-on the plane ride to France- that his father was leaving behind a title of royalty, he had after all been the Duke of Burgundy. However my father wasn't going to get the title because he explicitly denied it several years prior to my grandfather's death. Adding suspension, out of the other two siblings that my father had one died at the age of 26 in a car wreck, and the other was disowned at the age of 37 for tarnishing the family name; as such I was the only direct heir to my grandfather's title, which is why we had to attend his funeral in France.

I stepped into a large chapel and was overwhelmed with the dark colors centered around a half opened dark wood casket with my grandfather in it. The entire chapel, seemingly the entire region, was suffocated with a somber, noiseless, mass; omitting the curios whispered remarks as my father walked me down the aisle to the casket to pay my respects.

I couldn't help but feel like a prisoner walking to the gallows; my every step watched closely, my every subconscious fidget, every shift of my eyes, even the rise and fall of my small chest was seemingly memorized, analyzed, and stored for future review, almost like it might be my last; almost. After what seemed like an eternity my father and I reached the casket and I noticed the intricate embroidery of gold throughout the casket lining for the first time.

My eyes slowly work their way to my grandfather's large pale hands to the grand, gold-almost gaudy-necklace embedded with what I knew to be emeralds, rubies, and pearls. My eyes stuck onto my grandfather's silky blue tie and I felt my eyes water, this was the tie he wore when we met and he told me all those wonderful stories that made me laugh, but I smile a small smile as I also notice his tie is still skewed to the right just as it was when we met. When I feel the hot burning sadness drip down my pale cheeks I chuckle and reach out and fix the tie then I kiss both his cheeks and his forehead and wipe my tears away with the back of my hand then I allow my father to lead me to the front pew where we are seated next to my 3 great-uncles, 3 great-aunts, and their children; I can't help but notice they all avert their eyes and the children even bow their heads slightly.

The service starts and the speaker addresses the audience in French, a prayer is said in French and more speakers come up in a blur of tears and French words that hold no meaning to me. All too soon however the talking is over and I follow the coffin that my father helps carry to a pre dug grave and a final prayer is said as the casket is lowered, then the ceremony of the tossing in of the flowers comes and I am given the only blood red rose, I hold it with two hands and whisper into the soft petals:

"Grand-père au revoir" with this message I gently let the blood red flower float down to the smooth dark wood, and as soon as it touches down a volley of white flowers fly into the grave and another pang of loss strikes down into my very soul as I steal a final glance at the coffin before my father guides me away, back to the church.

"Where are we going now Father?" I ask as we step over the threshold of the chapel.

"We're going to go hear your grandfather's will be read, Hermione" He says lowly and doesn't stop walking.

Just as he says this we arrive at an open set of oak looking double doors and I can clearly see a jowly man with white wispy hair, looking more out of shape and sickly than the man we just laid to rest a few moments ago, sitting behind an elegantly carved dark wood desk with a single vanilla folder lying innocently in the middle. Entering the room I see my Grandfather's two brothers and sister already seated on the couch. My father guides me to sit next to a great-uncle who I can tell is the youngest of the three, my father stands behind me.

"Lynol could you please close the door, it's a private reading" the lawyer says, I'm surprised to hear that he's an Englishmen.

The only response is a solitary nod from "Lynol" as he closes the doors behind him.

"Are we all ready?" the lawyer asks licking his lips nervously.

I give a shaky "yes" in chorus with the almost eager nods of the others on the high backed couch.

The lawyer smiles brightly down at me when he hears my English accent, "you must Hermione" he says happily but with a somber stroke in it, "your grandfather must have loved you very much".

"Why do you sa-" I start to ask but am cut off by the great-uncle farthest away from me:

"Enuff ov dis idell chatar gat own wid z will" the man says bitterly.

"Egg-nore im chérie" the man next to me says kindly. It is then that I notice all of them have blue eyes but they all have a different look to them. The first man, his eyes are a hard cold blue, the woman's eyes are kind of vacant and dull, but the man next to me, he has soft gentle eyes.

"Let's begin then" the lawyer says opening the folder and looking down at a lonely sheet of paper with cursive hand written words on it.

The lawyer cleared his throat and then begun to read aloud to his small audience, "Ahem, 'I, William Sebastian Granger herby, in the event of my demise-natural or otherwise-leave my brother, Henri my safety deposit box number 369 and all its contents to do with what you will.'", to this the eldest man on the couch smiled and bowed his head.

The lawyer continued, "'To you Isabella, dear sister, I leave my safety deposit 837 and all its contents to do with whatever you desire.'", to this the woman raised an eyebrow questioningly.

The lawyer continued again, "'To Louis, my youngest brother, I leave his favorite horse Michael and all his benefits and legally ownership to do with whatever he pleases'" to this the man closest to me smiled in relief.

The lawyer, with a quick glance at me, put two safety deposit boxes on the table then continued, "'I also bequeath all my material objects, lands and houses, monies, and any other possessions that I legally own, as well as any claims I'm permitted and my obligations-should she accept them, omitting the two safety deposit boxes and the horse, in addition to my title of 'Duke of Burgundy' to my dear granddaughter Hermione Jean Granger'".


	3. Talk of the Gathering

**A.N./: Hey everyone I just wanna say thank you all so much for reviewing and you all were so sweet. I had no idea so many people would like this or would find it; but I guess that's what happens when you write about such a popular pairing ;). This chapter stars immediately after the previous one. I just wanna address some things real quick:**

**1: First and foremost I forgot to say that I don't own a lot of these characters but I am claiming the grandfather, his brothers and sister, the lawyer, the cousins, and a few other people as well as the majority of the plot; and I will be very upset with anyone who steals these things. "Swiper no swiping!" (I don't own that)**

**2: I know a couple people were a little worried about me starting so far back but I really wanted to talk about the title of nobility (**which I have no real claim to**) because it is very important to Hermione's first meeting with Minerva and it will almost constantly be brought up especially with the changes in Hermione, I have completely re-invented her for my manipulation.**

**3: What year do you all think Hermione and Minerva should get together? I won't accept any answer under fourth year but please leave your vote and comments in the review section at the bottom of the page; keep in mind this is a key aspect of the story.**

My jaw felt like it hit the floor after the long list was read of with my name at the end of it.

"Were you close to your grandfather Miss Granger, I mean Your Grace?" the lawyer asked placing the sheet of paper back on the vanilla folder.

"No, I only met him once" I responded staring at the sheet expecting it too spontaneously jump up and smile like that Cheshire cat in "Alice in Wonderland" then I would wake up screaming with a knot on my head and it had all been a dream. But it didn't move, it was just paper, there was no smiling, it was just a somber will reading, hard, cold, bitter, reality.

"Actually you've met twice, the first time you were too young to remember, the day after you were born he came and gave you his blessing by kissing you on the forehead" my father intervened a dazed sound in his voice.

"Oh" the lawyer responds lamely, "any way I took the privilege of collecting the two safety deposit boxes and the keys, though the horse is still in its stable".

Henri and Isabella both reached forward and pulled the metal boxes into their laps opening them and peering in at their contents. The first reaction came from Henri and it was a short amused sounding laugh as he reached in and picked up an old woven leather bracelet with a single ink black word on it '_hermano'_.

"I re-member dis, eht was dat time we all visi-ted Spain on a busy-ness trep for our father", Henri said, I knew he was speaking in English for my benefit but it was kind of painful to hear.

"Ear is mine as vell", Isabella added picking up an almost identical bracelet with '_hermana'_ written in the same ink as Henri's from her box. It was then that Louis exposed his left wrist with another almost identical bracelet as the others, with '_hermano' _written on his in the same color ink.

"I nevar took mine of" Louis remarked still exposing his bracelet to his siblings.

Isabella, after staring at the bracelet for a few minutes, put hers back in the metal box and closed it with a clang and, before she allowed herself to rush away, looked at the floor while saying, "I vill sea you al at the gathering lay-ter", and with that she hurried out of the room with her box and was soon followed by Henri who carried his box with him and looked like he was about say something but instead closed his mouth and gave a solitary nod then continued through the now open door.

"I vould lik tu pick up Michael an is papar-vork as sewn as possy-bell if that is allright vith ew, Your Grace?" Louis asked still sitting on the couch next to me.

It took me several seconds to realize he was talking to me, "Oh I don't actually know anything about that…".

"I have the paperwork here already and I arranged for the horse to be prepared at the Gallanger House tomorrow for you to pick up at your leisure, My Lord" the lawyer intervened luckily.

"Tank ew, Monsieur Browning I re-get dat I nead tu gat ome tu may wife she ehs an impaytiont wo-man", Louis said then took the papers that Daniel handed him and kissed my hand saying, "I ook for-ward to seaing ooh a-gain, Your Grace" then Louis left and I was alone with my father and the newly identified Mr. Browning.

"I just need you to sign some things to transfer the properties into your name, Your Grace" Mr. Browning said picking up a briefcase and pulling out a collection of papers that were highlighted by a solar system of bright blue stars next to bold black lines; I imagined then for a second as dance partners waltzing together, twinkling in and out, bighting and dimming.

I looked up at my father and at his nod I took the blue ballpoint pen from Mr. Browning and I allow myself to be directed by his seemingly unstopping river of 'initial this' and 'I need you signature here, Your Grace' and 'Oh, Your Grace' and his 'print your name right here, Your Grace'.

But finally, and not a moment too soon, Mr. Browning said, "And that should be it".

"Sooo, now what?" My father asks watching Mr. Browning slide those treacherous papers back into his briefcase.

"Now, I go and file these into the international database, and you can do whatever you please, though I recommend you rest up in the Feuder House so you are ready for the gathering in three days time".

"Whoa, what 'gathering in three days time'?" my father asked looking slightly flustered.

"Weren't you told?" Mr. Browning asked worriedly and at my father's shake of the head 'no' Mr. Browning sighed and then began a string of apologies that I'm not entirely sure were all in English, "I'm so sorry again, I thought you had already been told. The gathering is to be held in the honor of Her Grace, The Duchess of Burgundy, at Her largest house which is the Feuder House in Avallon".

Before anyone could say anything else a tan woman with ebony hair pinned up and back wearing a silky black button long sleeved blouse with a grey skirt and patent leather black stilettos on her also tan feet and holding a calendar and sharp pencil, she speaks in a light French accent and I can tell she speaks in a lot of English, "Oh, are you done here Mr. Browning? I need Her Grace for her fitting for her gown for the gathering".

"Ah, yes her dress. Your Grace?" Mr. Browning asks motioning his hand towards the woman. I look to my father and he nods his head 'yes' while outstretching his hand for mine, together we walk towards the woman and in response she holds out her hand to me and I furrow my brow looking up at my father.

"Thank you Mr. Granger, I can take Her Grace from here" the woman states with a perfectly straight white smile.

"Oh I don't think s-" my father starts to argue but is cut off by Mr. Browning:

"Come now Mr. Granger, it is a woman's dress; a man has no business in those affairs".

"It is not 'a woman's dress' it is my little girl going off with a perfect stranger in a foreign country! And that is most certainly her father's business!" my father states irritated.

"If you would like you may wait outside the door while she is fitted but I'm afraid strict laws prohibit a man being in a room with a girl while she is undressing" the woman interjects.

My father seems to accept this and nudges me towards the woman and she takes my hand and all three of us make are way down the hallway to an open single dark wood door that has tall cream colored walls with an elevated circle platform in the middle. Off to the side, an elderly woman with white hair pulled back in a bun stood in a long dress, that and her small round gold glasses at the end of her nose made her look the spitting image of Mrs. Clause.

"Ight up der Your Grace" the old woman said in a heavy French accent pointing to the platform. I walked to it in a mystic awe after the first woman let go of my hand, before I got up onto it I looked back at my father to see him being shushed out of the room by the first woman.

The second woman gained my attention by taking my hand and helping me onto the platform, though I didn't really need it. The next thing she did caught me by surprise, she started to undress me! I mean the nerve of that woman. Seeing me start to move away the first woman said, from across the room, "It is her job Your Grace and she does it well".

So I allowed a total stranger to undress me down to my underwear and then I watched this woman evaluate me and sketch my silhouette onto a piece of parchment with a black colored pencil looking thing. She made remarks like, 'we will have to slick the hair' and 'well developed, for an eleven year old' but finally she asked a question that she actually expected me to, or even gave me time to, answer:

"What color dress Duchess?"

"I hadn't really thought about it…" I responded then I paused to really consider and apparently I had taken to long because the woman asked me another question:

"Well let's start with a color you don't want".

"Black, white, and any sort of cream are out of the question. Oh and absolutely NO yellows" the first woman answered.

Before the second woman could say anything I recommended blood red, I don't know why but it seemed appropriate being it was my grandfather's and my favorite color. To this the first woman scrolled down the clipboard with her finger and then told the second woman it would be fine.

"And accent color?" The second woman questioned while scrawling something down on the parchment where she sketched me.

"Her Grace should be wearing purple and gold to symbolize her new found royalty" the first woman said.

"Her Grace vill vear vhat she wants anyway she vants, it iz er par-tea aftar all" the second woman cut in.

"Thank you" I told the second woman sincerely.

"No prob-lem, Your Grace" the second woman said.

"Please, call me Hermione" I told her, getting sick of the "Your Grace's".

"If you insist, Hermione. I am Veronica Delwanger" Veronica said sweetly.

"May I call you Veronica?" I asked politely though I was quite sure I didn't have to ask.

"Of course Hermione, now your main color is blood red?" Veronica asked

"Yes like a ripe red rose" I responded

"And your secondary color?" Veronica asked again.

"Silver" I responded immediately.

"I think I can work with that" Veronica said smiling; then began the grueling process of the actual fitting.

**A.N./: Real quick I put Hermione's ensemble up as my profile picture and don't forget to review**


	4. Amanda

**A.N./:** **I know this is really late but I am determined NOT TO ABANDON THIS STORY! I'll try to update when I can. Sorry if it seems choppy but I wrote it on different days.**

"Absolutely not!" My mother yells, rather unreasonably in my opinion.

"Jean, come on" my father responds gently, at which my mother fumes. She had not been invited to the will reading and hadn't known, before a few moments ago, about the title and my father thought it rather important to tell her. I, on the other hand, knew exactly how my mother would react and thought we could just lie through our teeth about it; unfortunately my father wouldn't allow it.

"I already signed the papers!" I yelled at her then ran to the bedroom of the hotel we were staying at, threw all my stuff into my suitcase and ran out, down the elevator, called the number on the card that the first woman gave me-Amanda-with the phone on the front desk, and got outside to wait for her before my parents had even realized what had happened.

By the time my parents had figured out what I had done a black town car had already pulled up to the hotel and a man got out of the car to open the door for me and take my bag. Right before I got in my mother and father came busting through the door calling my name, the only argument was a single, quiet, understanding:

"Your Grace?" that came from Amanda from within the car, it wasn't pleading, impatient, desperate, or commanding but rather an innocent question to let me know that she wasn't going anywhere I didn't want her to.

"I'll see you in a couple days" I said shamefully over my shoulder and climbed into the car next to Amanda. The man who took my bag closed the door behind me and then got back into the driver's seat. When he started to put some distance between us and the hotel the driver asked, looking back at us in the rearview mirror, in a light French accent:

"Any destination in mind?", at this Amanda looked at me not saying a word.

Holding eye contact with her for a few moments I answered the driver, while looking at him in the rearview mirror, "The Feuder House in Avallon"; with a single nod the driver changed lanes and took the next exit. After this Amanda held down a button on the ceiling and closed a blackout window dividing the car in half.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Amanda asked gently after it was closed. At this I broke down and started to cry, all the adrenalin gone, and the full weight of what I had just done fell down my cheeks and onto my folded hands that laid on top of my jeans.

"Do you want to go back?" Amanda asked changing tactics.

"No" was my forceful reaction, my throat scratchy from the sobs.

"Alright. Just know I am here to help you in any way I can, whatever you decide" Amanda responded sincerely. I looked up at her and told her I was sorry while trying to wipe away my tears with my hands.

"You have no need to apologize to me, Your Grace" Amanda responded while handing me a tissue though I didn't see where she had gotten it from. I asked her to just call me Hermione and I attempted to wipe my eyes with the tissue but ended up just getting frustrated and balling it up in my lap while crying harder. Ever so gently Amanda's tan hands hesitantly took the abused tissue from my own small hands. She straightened the tissue, folded it in half, and with only slightly more sure hands took my face by the chin with one finger and guided me to face her then used the tissue to expertly wipe away my still burning tears.

"The people closest to us will be the ones that will hurt us the hardest because they are so close to us and we let our guard down around them, the key part is to be able to pick yourself up and dust yourself off" Amanda said. I heard her; and I understood her reasoning was logical. But I couldn't help the illogical side of me from getting slightly defensive when I realized that she had called me vulnerable.

"Even you?" I ask defensively, my temper rising.

"I am your loyal servant. Always here. A constant. For you to do with what you will. I've taken an oath" Amanda responded smiling towards the end. There is a few moments of silence as that sinks in and I realized that she will be my greatest ally in this world.

"I don't know anything about the world of royalty, or French, and I have no idea what to do about the fashion. I mean I'm wearing jeans and a jumper for goodness sake" I spontaneously confess.

"The fashion is the easy part, the French language is slightly harder but not by much, for the royalty however all that is is names and titles; but a major part is the trust" Amanda says her hands are on top of mine the tissue still clamped tight in her long fingers.

"I can't trust people" I state somberly looking outside my window at the fast moving highway.

"Oh contraire, Hermione" It's the first time she's ever called me by my first name and it causes me to look up into her steel grey eyes somehow so much more open and inviting than they were just a moment ago, "for you're already trusting".

"I am?" I ask with so much childish innocence that I want to choke.

"Of course, you trusted me haven't you? That I would come get you and that I wasn't going to let Veronica do anything she wasn't supposed to do" Amanda states as though it were blatantly obvious.

"Amanda?" I ask and she looks at me with a small smile.

"Yes, Hermione?"

"Thank you"


End file.
